


Primis

by DankTempsey



Category: Call of Duty
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-14 09:50:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9174940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DankTempsey/pseuds/DankTempsey
Summary: Maybe royalty and godhood isn't as easy as it looks. Our four heros find the Castellum de Bello and are mistaken as the heroes of Primis. Maintaining a chaotic village is harder than it seems; troubles and evils await our soldiers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Bare with me, it's pretty slow at the beginning. Chapter two will be better.
> 
> Enjoy for now!
> 
> Leave kudos and comments, please!

Primis

  
_"Primis? The beginning?!"_  
_"Calm down, they'll be safe."_  
_"You sent them to an unknown time period! How will―"_  
_"Give them faith, old chap. Yes. They'll know what to do. . ."_

_×_

  
A forest without borders encircled the lonesome, unconscious traveller. His brown tunic was tickled by deep green grass as the breeze had picked up; audible chimes in the distance sung in the wind. Grey skies rolled and grumbled, which was loud enough to wake the weary, confused man.

Hooded eyelids peeled once, fluttered, then shot open. He was puzzled, vagabond, and very alone. Cautiously, he stood, as to not wake his own self too quickly. His legs wobbled and quaked as calloused palms sunk into his fleshy cheeks.

"Ugh. . . Where in the hell am I?"

Cool air sprayed across the plains of vegetation, clouds in the sky danced furiously and mimicked ash, and a distinguishable cry was heard in the eternal forest.

". . . Richtofen?"

The soldier scoured his surroundings, aggressively searching for his three compeers, but they were nowhere in sight.

Instead, a gleam of purple narrowed it's vertical light upon the soldier's breast. As he looked down, he was delighted to be greeted with his own weapon of weather. He wiped dirt from the staff, and glazed the bronze shaft with his sweating palms. Once he had cleaned the staff, the crimson sigil on his uniform began to vibrate and glow like churning pit fire.

Another cry made itself known in the glaucous area.

Dempsey started out into the vast wilderness.

He dashed through the slick, morning dew grass, and stretched across deep, rocky rivers. He was light on his feet and quick to determine where he needed to change direction. Boots squished fresh mud beneath his feet, he swore he could feel it between his toes. Alive and quick, alive and quick, alive and―

"Watch out!"

An abrupt halt had sent Tank on his back, as well as the other charging soldier. They lay diagonally, holding their heads and shoulders while writhing in pain.

"What's your deal man? You blind or somethin'?" Asks Tank, now gathering his weapon and pursuing the laying man.

The man's portly belly was exposed and his hair was thrust backwards on the crunched grass. If it wasn't for the other staff in the other's hand, Dempsey wouldn't have known who it was.

"Nikolai? Like the hair."

Nikolai grumbles, shooting to his feet as he grappled his staff lazily.

As he stood, Dempsey took time to notice a large, red seal that stretched on Nikolai's attire. Dempsey had the same one.

"Dempsey, I did not expect to see you here. What happened? What did this 'Doctor Monty' do to us?"  
"Beats me, Nik. Let's search for the other two and get out of here."

Muffled footsteps pressed onward toward the men. Onyx hair shines like a river of molten lava, his chained garb jingled everytime he made way.

"Searching for me will not be necessary."

Once again, Tank's eyes locked onto the blood red symbol of the other man's attire.

"Hey Tak. Great. Three down, one to go."

Nikolai raises an eyebrow, "you do not think that Monty kept Richtofen from this realm, yes? Does he have the potential to destroy this life as well?"  
"Nikolai is right, Dempsey. Though he stayed true to his word, I fear I cannot trust him enough yet. What if he obliterates this world?"

Tank sighed, shaking his head, "both of you are too intimidated by Richtofen. He doesn't have that much power, and he wouldn't even dream of doing that anyways."

Nikolai glanced towards Takeo, they kept their understanding glare for a while and averted their attention to Dempsey.

"Look, let's just find him, okay? I'm sure he'll know what to do. C'mon."

  
_×_

  
Crater sized holes stained old cement walls of which guarded the village. Cracks zigzagged to and fro, chipped paint crusted into ash, and a white dust waved in the wind.

"This place looks beat up. Looks like a war hot spot," tells Dempsey.

"It is. The ' _Castellum de Bello_ ' to be exact, translating to 'village of war' in English. I've studied this in archives back in Griffin Castle, then again when we left to Stalingrad. I wonder why Maxis never mentioned this place to me previously, it's perplexing. . ."

Nikolai grimaced, spilling his sentence like venom dripped from his sharp tongue, "where were you, Doctor Richtofen?"

"Oh, just like you, I was wandering around, trying to find some salvation or a domestic locale."

"Actually, doc, we were lookin' for you."  
" _Ah_ , as I see. Well, you've very well found me, or should I say, I've found you all. And your sigils seem to be very kempt."

Takeo closes in on Edward, "German. What do they mean? I will not continue to toy with the magick of disturbed ancestors. I demand answers!"

Richtofen frowns, then shakes his head. In all honesty, he wasn't quite sure where they were either. For once Richtofen was as lost as the others were; he hated not knowing the unknown. It destroyed his leg up of completing objectives, only because he'd utilize this as some self beneficial tool to get them to do what he needed. Of course he was cautious, and only did this with necessary things. Richtofen hated asking politely for things to get done―reading a checklist was far more intriguing.

"Unfortunately my warrior friend, I have no idea where we are. Interrogate me another time, when I have actual information," Edward moves ahead towards the prodigious gates. "Now, shall we move on through the town?"

Favorable agreements through groans or head nods led way to their continued journey. Takeo and Nikolai budged the large, concrete entrance.

"It looks as if it's a ghost town," whispered Takeo.

Cobwebs, dust, and thick clouds of fog saturated the atmosphere of the aged town. Senile huts wore worn down straw roofs. Rock patterned roads were definitely broken, as potholes found housing in the middle of streets. Markets withheld fresh fruits, but even those were covered with dust.

"Looks abandoned." Muttered Nikolai, juggling a rock between his feet.

A pole from a nearby stand crashed, as tons and tons of mangoes and papayas rolled out onto the barren street. There laying next to the threaded, fallen baskets was a grime covered woman.

"Not quite so," remarked Takeo, "excuse me! May we use your guidance and help?"

Fright leaped into the woman's chest as she stared at the four with undivided attention. Her mouth bounced with awe. Soon, she sneaked through a crevice of two cottages and took off running.

"Hey, get back here!" Yelped Dempsey, now in pursuit of chasing the woman. The others joined, slipping through the same entryway and exploring the grand village.

Dempsey reached an arm out, "hey, lady! I'm not going to hurt you, where are you going?"

Her gasps heaved rapidly from her thick neck, her feet clapped on hard pavement, and her rags twirled in the quick breeze.

Subsequently, a cathedral appears on the close horizon. Dempsey squints and slows his chase. The nimble woman runs up the high stairs. Her hands caress the large golden knobs on the door, swings the door open, and enters. By now, the three had all caught up with Dempsey.

"Well well, you've found the cathedral, American."  
"Yeah, it's pretty hard to miss Edward."

Takeo presses a knee into the hard ground, brushing his fingertips across the glossy staircase.

"Marble? But this village is so poorly kept after."

Nikolai shrugs, looking towards the temple, "maybe this is all they've invested in. This is nothing new to Nikolai, it happens all the time in Russia. Glorifying religion over their own well-being."

"It's kind of embarrassing, if you ask me," said Richtofen, stalking up the rectangular marble.

Gradually had his companions joined the ascension of the pure, white stairway. Prayers had been embedded with gold on each large step. Though the sun had not been shining, it was still quite blinding to look at for too long. Even when they reached the top, they glanced back and forth between the gray town and glistening church.

Tank reached for the lustrous yellow handle, and snatched one door wide open. Takeo did the other.

"Hello? Anyone in here?" Inquired Dempsey, allowing in his teammates before following.

Not just anyone was in there, but _everyone_ was in there―definitely people of the nearby hamlet. Their exterior appearance matched the one of their burg; dirt and speckled grunge wore their clothes more than they had. The people faced the four with fear and shock and maybe even a hint of desperation.

A loud, foreign voice of villager screamed a phrase. The crowd of a few hundred began yelping and crying and howling. They pointed and persisted to squawk and holler.

The group of men stood, confusion displaying beautifully on their indifferent faces.

Shouting continued for a while, until a loud and deep voice bellowed:

" _Prohibere!_ "

Townspeople after townspeople succumbed and dropped to their knees as a pristine and sharp priest swayed his way through the dirty crowd. He descended his podium, while the many few whispered and bowed at his feet.

His strides were quick and simple. He faced the four with raised eyebrows and a half dropped jaw.

"That must be their ruler, perhaps this is a theocracy," mentioned Takeo.

He enclosed the four, now slowing his steps and letting small droplets form at the cusp of his eyes.

" _Salve_."  
"Uh. . ."

Richtofen chuckles, and repeats the greeting.

"It's Latin for hello, Dempsey."  
"Yeah? Well, all I know is English and Spanish."

The priest contemplates, and nods in agreement with himself.

"Hello, my lords."  
"Lords?"

Takeo shakes his head, "I believe you have us confused with someone else, sir."

"Primis!"  
". . . Excuse me?"

The leader extends his hand past the soldiers and directs it above the doors of the chapel.

A large mural extended there; painted with a deep orange and an angelic blue. The word PRIMIS was inscribed in gold. The main landscape of the painting was four men, who looked exactly like the soldiers, being cheered on by a crowd of peasants, people, and religious figures. They held staffs of gold with different colored tips and designs on each.

"The prophecy was true. . . You have come to provide us deliverance and redemption! With protection and escaping the evils of the world! God sent four angels to save us, to deliver us! The prophecy _is_ true!"

"Monty... he must've sent us back," Richtofen said, glancing toward Tank.  
"Yeah but how _far_ back, Ed?"  
" _Primis._ First. The beginning! The beginning of all of it. The undead don't even exist!"

Takeo hummed, "I can live with that."

  
×


	2. Chapter 2

Primis

 

  
"We're not Gods, right?"

Tank was utmost serious with this inquiry.

Though he was buried beneath thickets of feathers and celebratory cloth and continuously clobbered with smeared makeups, he was very concerned.

Nikolai tsked, tutting his tongue to the roof of his mouth, "should it matter now? We are in too deep to back out."

The lovely concubines, men and women, danced and pranced. Giggles erupted as Takeo's hair became coated with lustrous ornaments; he was beaming with delight, as if this was his natural habitat.

Actually, the warrior was utmost thrilled to see courtesans being accepted and appreciated in this town. He never found the practice as something to frown down upon, nor look up to. It was just. . . there. Surely enough, he's had his fair share with investing in prostitution and maybe even a little gambling. But to just have them pamper and slather makeup on him was nicer than anything he's previously paid for.

"It's no sin to seek relaxation," mumbled Takeo, as his lips were being painted an icy white, "I feel we deserve it."

"I don't doubt that," speaks Edward, now strutting out of his concise dressing room. Takeo wasn't the only one enjoying this; Richtofen was cloaked head to toe in one vibrant color.

Yellow.

Yellow fell from his outfit like a cascading waterfall―a rich gold rested on his usual red sigil on his chest. His suit fit him nicely, and so did the trousers. Yellow shined on his shoes, and his shoes were long, leather heeled boots. The only thing that refrained the color was his brown belt. But even that fit him nicely.

"Aww, does Richtofen like dress-up?" Asked Dempsey, shooing a concubine from his view, "it looks like the sun threw up on you."

"Actually Dempsey, I must have you know, that this is ceremonial attire. Only the most important, the most significant and divine people are allowed to wear this. You're lucky they even let you fit into that one," Edward rolled his eyes, slinking off to the side of their godly chamber.

"What's so great about that one?" Questions Nikolai.

"Why, that's the leader's royal raiment. I don't see why I never get to be the leader, considering I do all of the leading," Richtofen sighed, turning the other cheek, "but I'm nothing jealous on why they chose the American."

Takeo, now shimmying into a cerulean tunic and tying his brown pants, cocked his head to the side, "what do you mean, German?"

Edward rolled his eyes again. If he did it one more time Nikolai swore they would've been stuck forever.

"I mean, Dempsey has that heroic and strong appeal. Nikolai is strong too, but. . . he is not hard headed. Takeo is strong as well, but he doesn't like attention."

There was silent consensus between the men.

Nikolai knew he wasn't hard headed. Stubborn, yes, but far from being practical. He presumed that was a definite reason him and Tank hadn't been getting along quite well with each other recently. That, and Tank was a total showoff. Nikolai believed in modesty. If anything was blasphemous here, it'd be Dempsey's repertoire.

A rapid set of triple knocks directed the mens' attention to the doorway, "Pardon me, my Lords. But the ceremony will begin in half an hour. We're all eager for your presence and we give you all our gratitude for your heavenly visit."

The priest began to bow, then started to weep. "Our village, so small, and yet so stocked with anxieties, are to only serve indebtedness and thanks to you, my Gods. We bless you, Primis!"

Crawling on his palms and kneecaps, the prelate sunk before Nikolai and began to press kisses on his covered feet.

Desperate glances flickered everywhere amongst the ensemble. The action was almost ignominious. And not to the priest.

"Alright, get up," finalized Dempsey, reaching for the anguished man, "say, what's your name?"

"My name is Atonious Beatus," he removes his hat, dusted it, and rushed it to his thudding chest, "it's my honor to display my name. I understand you must be _Dempsus_ the great."

Nikolai blew raspberries before gathering a good air of laughter. His eyes bulged from its sockets as he flirted with the idea of guffawing. " _Dempsus?!_ " Cried the Russian, spit lining his gaping mouth, "and who am I, _Belinskus?_ "

Atonious kept an ill stare, utterly blunt he replied, "no, do not poke fun at him, _Nikolas_."

Another roaring group of laughter filled the vibrant atmosphere.

"I must be _Eadweard_ or _Eduardo_ Not much you can do to ruin this name, _ja?_ "  
"Why yes sir, that is your appellation sir. Why must you ask me?" Countered Atonious.

"Silence! There will be no more mockery of our ancest―eh. . . our cognomen, gentlemen," Takeo found his place next to Atonious, inching his hand on the other's broad shoulder, "forgive them."

Atonious grinned. " _Takeshi_ is right. All of you speak so foul of yourselves. Perhaps this party will change that," he pats Takeo on the lower back, staring passionately at him.

"You all look like wonderful lieges," Atonious input, clearing up his steamy eyes and heading off to plan the rest of the ceremony.

"Emotional guy," mentioned Tank. He stood up as the doxies persisted to fix up the fine, suited clothing.

Dempsey's clothes didn't differ too violently from the rests'. The only true difference was a silky piece of purple cloth that wrapped his midriff, and his belt was gold instead of brown. His boots shined a glorious mulberry, and his undershirt was brown.

"I like it, makes me feel like a knight. . . without the armor," said Tank. Nikolai stands, nodding while Dempsey posed heroically.

"Nikolai likes this as well," he moved next to Dempsey, "and maybe Takeo is right. We deserve a break."

"Technically," interrupted Richtofen, "nothing can go completely wrong. I mean, in order to have the undead, there would have to be element one-one-five lying around here. I doubt there's any around."

"But what about our _godhood?_ What if they find out we're not holy?"  
"Takeo, you worry so much," Nikolai told as he tromped towards him, "we go out there, give them good time, tell them what they want to hear, and boom! It's like they never knew, and they won't have to either."

Takeo scoffed. "I do not toy with spiritual power, you know that Russian dog!"

"But―"

His gloved hand held off Nikolai from continuing. His opposite fingers scratched his chin, as he tossed ideas in his head.

  
". . . But given our circumstances, I guess I will have to comply."

  
_×_


	3. Chapter 3

Primis 

 

 

_"Intervention is feasible. . . I'm not sure if I should bring them back or let their lives be lived."_

_"Your worrying gives me anxiety. Settle down now."_

_"Soon it will be too late to retrieve them, and yet I still possess second thoughts on this."_

_"You sent them there for a specific reason, I assure you they will make the best of it."_

 

 

×

 

 

 

Patters of vermillion wove from the ground to the tip of the highest buildings. Guild flags danced in the crosswind and exchanged perfumed smells of natural berries. Kaleidoscopic powders flew in the air from working hands; thick palms dug deep within the barrels of purple, yellow, red or blue and tossed colored ashes into the sky. Maidens, young men, and people had danced beneath the psychedelic array of a dispersed rainbow.

 

Chicken and ale was the main course, leaving rye floured baguettes and sweets to be married as a side dish. Baskets of crops overflowed the lane markets, many people crowded the dance floor, then the emporiums.

 

A live band struck their instruments with great fervor; overwhelmed with the sound of excitement, the lead instrumentalist struggled to keep a steady beat with his stomping foot.

 

Conversations in many different languages―mostly Latin―took place on the caper ground, near the sidelines, and even behind closed doors of the celebration. Nonetheless, everyone was enjoying themselves.

 

Atonious settled the people, attracting the crowd in his directive incentive. Quietude engulfed them all. He spoke in Latin:

 

_"For several years, our village has suffered through tyrannical attacks, outside threats, and has been visited by those who seek trade, then collectively steal what was ours! God has finally heard our calling and pleading, we have been graced with four angels from the high heavens! It is my dearest honors to present to you all, the Lords of Primis!"_

 

The roar of the people was thunder. They pelted their feet, slapped their sweating palms together, and cried at the top of their lungs―the four warriors collectively stepped out onto the wooden stage.

 

How the group hated to admit it, but fear overruled any other emotion.

 

"This place is a lot more bigger than I remember," whispered Nikolai. He waved to the crowd. Most people in the first, jumbled-up row had swooned.

 

"Perhaps the word got out," replied Takeo, following said action. He stepped forward and stood bravely before the few thousand.

 

"Let's just hope it didn't get out to the wrong people," Dempsey says, grabbing Richtofen's hand and raising it in the air, "I'm diggin' the party." Then Takeo linked hands, then Nikolai. 

 

Bow after bow, flowers, medallions and valuables were tossed onto the wooden frame. They then escorted themselves from the stage.

 

"Takeo and I will be near the food if you need us," Nikolai said, a stomach grumbling right after the sentence. Takeo sheepishly faced away, clutching his abdomen. "We will see you later, comrades."

 

Dempsey laughed, "you don't see that everyday. I wouldn't even think Tak would get hungry."

 

Richtofen nodded leaning in closely. "Truth be told, he was the one eating most of the supplies in Werfen. Then again on that Pacific Island. And everywhere else really."

 

The couple chuckled again, letting the laughter die down into a comfortable silence.

 

Not like it was at all silent; the band was giving its all with two final measures of a orchestral piece. Cluttered clicking owned the stone floor, voices spouted gabfests like no tomorrow.

 

"Are you okay?"

 

Suddenly, the whole party seemed to freeze around Richtofen. How could three simple words force him to succumb to a numb and fragile state. His lips trembled while pondering the question. He heard a flatline rate in the back of his head, but for some reason his heart was beating and was beating _strong_.

 

". . . Why are you asking me, Dempsey?"

"Ever since we left that broken and fucked up place where we killed the last of the freak bags, you seem so distant. You went from completely relaxed one day, to over the moon and cold the next and it stayed like that for a long while. I want to know if you're. . . _okay_."

 

Edward knew what "okay" actually meant.

 

Richtofen wouldn't be able to whisk that feeling away, even if he was in a life or death situation. He would never want to abandon this feeling, nor trade it for anything. Dempsey felt the same way.

 

He cracked a quivering simper. He was poised.

 

"Yes, Dempsey. I am _okay_." Richtofen responded, meeting his hand atop Tank's. Dempsey nodded, pulling the other into a warm embrace. It was fleet though; Atonious was elated to find the two.

 

"Marvellous, yes? I only wanted the best for you, my Lords. The finest silk, food, and music you'll ever find in this region," Atonious pointed to Nikolai, who had been scarfing down who knows what.

 

"I might try some myself in a minute, looks delicious." Complimented Dempsey. Richtofen agreed, reaching for the silver goblet presented by one of the staff.

 

"Smells delicate, what is it?"

"Berry and grape juices mixed and half fermented. It's very enjoyable."

 

Edward sipped cautiously, watching as Atonious took another chalice. Then did Dempsey. Before sipping, the priest mentioned a little "cheers" then tipped the whole cup back. 

 

Dempsey watched the party, falling in love with the air and character. Rhythmic claps echoed through the night, a colossal crowd groups the center of the festival. Instead of avidity, they expressed happiness. It was a jolly tune, nothing too expensive to waste on their creaking instruments. Two dancers seemed to steal the attention of (mostly) all the people.

 

Dempsey ran down a double take, now peering over the heads of taller inhabitants. 

 

He was pleasantly surprised to find that the two dancers were Takeo and Nikolai. They skipped with locked elbows, and then twirled under each others arms. 

 

Nikolai takes Takeo's hand and swings the man left and right, before encircling his thick arm on the shorter man's chest and holding his from behind. Takeo steps in quick motions, then repeats going beneath Belinski's arm. The pair allocated snickering.

 

For how spontaneous it was, Tank acknowledged how well choreographed it had been. Even he began to cheer and shout.

 

"Who knew Nikolai danced!" Cried Edward, moving alongside the other.

 

"I ain't such a good dancer, and too bad," replied Dempsey, "that looks pretty fun."

 

After dancing for what it seemed like hours, Takeo and Nikolai parted ways to different buffets and chat groups. Quick music died down and a chime began a symphony of smooth music. Some string instrument was picked quickly, while the quartet proceeded with a main melody. It seemed to be the puppeteer of the crowd; partners found partners, friends reunited with friends, lovers unified.

 

Dresses twirled across the floor; heels clicked on the stone, and bodies linked closely as one.

 

It was a silent plea, but one gloved hand reached for the other, as Edward escorted Tank to the floor.

 

"Richtofen, I," he was already out of breath, "I don't, I can't―"

"Just. . ." Edward laced his fingers around the fabric sash on Tank's hip, then pulled him closely. He takes his other hand, purple silk rubbed on yellow silk, and Dempsey flushed with stinging red cheeks.

 

"Sway with me at least."

 

Tank tucked a hot breath in his mouth while Richtofen sewed their bodies as one. Dempsey could feel everything―tight clothing rubbed on his pants with every motion, Edward's heart was tapping gradually but lusty, and he could even hear every time the man took a breath. 

 

Most of the dancers were engaged in a well practiced and cautious step-by-step. Guided by slow music, they dipped and swirled in a large connected circle.

 

Tank was glad they were on the sidelines; swaying like this before the party would probably disprove their godliness from how elementary it was. And besides, looking into Edward's eyes was probably way more exciting than the actual dancing itself.

 

Nikolai rubbernecked Tank and Edward. Though they were continuously covered by bypassing people, he persisted to stare and even scrunched his nose.

 

"Takeo, I do not understand those two," garbled Nikolai, knocking his wooden keg against the warrior's, "love, hate, love, hate, it drives me crazy, just choose one!"

 

Takeo nodded, raising his stout halfway in the air.

 

He was slightly soused―nothing too dangerous, but just enough for him to let loose―and he knew it. It wasn't a bad thing though, he enjoyed feeling free and subjected to a good night. Evidently so when he knew he could hold his liquor.

 

"Nikolai," groaned Takeo. He swerved over, one seat closer to the Russian.

 

"Takeo, what is wrong? You look so upset." He grabbed the shorter man's face and pulled him closely, "and your eyes are so glossy. What is the matter?"

 

There was no intention of getting any more vexatious, and even though he could barely breathe by how tightly the Russian squeezed on his face, it was very comforting. He sunk into his chest and cooed.

 

"Oh, Takeo," sighed Nikolai, "you seem so upset. What is the matter?"

 

Takeo used Nikolai's forearm to raise himself back upwards. He looked at the glowing and extremely rosy man in front of him. Sweat would've usually disgusted Takeo, but seeing it curve on Belinski's cheeks, and slide down from there to his chin was slightly enchanting. The Japanese man had been raring to touch it, or even to get in closer towards the Russian again. 

 

"I'm not frustrated, nor perturbed," he argued, "I happen find myself very lighthearted."

"Good Takeo. Happiness becomes of you so beautifully. Especially when you smile."

 

Takeo was now sporting a feverish red. He peeled away from the Russian, flushed.

 

"If I am not mistaken, I would say you were leading me on," Takeo whispered, half-hoping Nikolai didn't hear him. 

 

"Perhaps I am," he replied, closing the gap between them once again.

 

Surely this was nothing but intoxicated behavior. Even when Nikolai reached for Takeo's hand, then when he began to mutter in his ear.

 

Takeo shakes his head, "Nikolai, you are inebriated. I do not wish to hear drunken lies."

 

"You know very well it takes more than just three measly containers to get me drunk. Are you afraid?"

"Afraid? No! Why would I be?"

"I mean, are you afraid to do this again?"

 

Of course he was afraid to do this again. Takeo had a budding romance with Nikolai time and time again. At the beginning it was nothing but sheer loneliness that spawned into a frequented emotion of love and acceptance. It died down here and there, but only from the occupation of work; needless to say, there were hundreds of undead roaming their whereabouts and had to be exterminated once and for all. After that, there was brief affection; Nikolai seemed unsure then.

 

But now, he wished to rekindle it. As confusing as it was, Takeo found serenity in it.

 

"No, I'm just addled is all," he said, combing a hand through his crown. It fell slowly, untwining from the luxurious braid.

 

Nikolai slinks a hand into Takeo's glossy, silken hair. His thick fingers slowly grasps the ends, then he sunk it towards the back of his head. 

 

"Let me help you with that then," gently whispered Nikolai, his words slathered with extra sensuality.

 

The rest of the night was a blur to the two; it seemed too perfect to conclude. Though, they made sure it was absolutely utopian towards the end. 

 

Takeo and Nikolai snuck off to who knows where.

 

Dempsey watched as the two entered an extravagant, ivory building. If he wasn't so busy with Edward, he would've fulfilled his curiosity.

 

Instead, he had to look after Richtofen.

 

The German was slurring his speech and still dancing, even if they had been far from the festival. His attire was pulled and strained, one of his boots was missing, and a distinct smell of berries and barley sat on his tongue. 

 

"Demp. . . sey," tried the German, "I. . . Had a goodnight. Thank you for dancing with me."

 

Tank sniggered, now approaching Richtofen's sleeping quarters, "it was fun Ed. Thanks for teachin' me."

 

Richtofen nodded, pulling on Tank's shirt, "you dance so _goooood_." They entered the chamber, and the marine helped him to his bed. 

 

"You need to lay down, get some rest, Eddie," he helped him undress to his under clothes, then pulled the sheet over him, "lay on your side."

 

The German began to smile, his eyelids leisurely bouncing.

 

"You're so good to me, American. . ."

 

Tank laughed, "goodnight Richtofen."

 

He stayed for a while, brushing over Edward's hair with his gentle palm.

 

 

×


End file.
